


The Way That He Looks at Me

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mild Smut, Mostly soft versdyn, POV Multiple, Sharing a Bed, ignoring hand job practicalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: A late night studying notes leads to a sleep-deprived accident. Not that Ardyn or Verstael seem to mind.





	The Way That He Looks at Me

**Author's Note:**

> So here I am. Joining the Versdyn ranks. I found this ship confusing, and then amusing at first, and now I am neck-deep in shipping hell. And loving it. Let these two miserable boys love and find happiness together.  
> A special shout out to my dear friend, Gizzwhizz, who has spent the past few days listening to me scream about these boys. And for joining in the screaming, as well, and feeding my love for these two. You are the best. And also possibly enabling me.<3

Ardyn sat in his bed, book in hand, shoulders leaning against the cushioned headboard. The words on the page did not hold his attention. Instead, he found his gaze straying to the small, blond-haired man sitting at his desk just a short distance away. Occupied with his work, he seemed in his own little world, oblivious that he was being watched.

Verstael was a strange fellow. Ardyn had passed that judgement fairly early after meeting him. Several weeks had gone by since the night that they spoke over dinner, and his opinion failed to waver. 

Though, if he were honest with himself, many things were strange to him. This world of cold metal and glaring artificial light that he had awoken in, the ill-fitting clothing that rubbed and clung to his shoulders. It made sense that things would be different. The world had went on without him, after all. Time and technology advanced while he remained stationary, imprisoned within Angelgard. People looked different, behaved different. He was growing accustomed, though it was still jarring.

He turned the page, not having read any of it. The next offered the same wall of text. It wasn’t that he disliked reading. In fact, it was all that he had done as he regained his energy that first week after he awoke. It was a distraction from his thoughts, from the past that haunted him and the reality that he now faced. It was a manner of learning more about the world around him. 

However, during the nights when Verstael entered his office, he found it more and more difficult to concentrate on reading.

Verstael… he was a rather  _ different _ kind of different. Peculiar. Fascinating. Ardyn couldn’t help but watch whenever he walked into his office. He couldn't quite decide if it was protectiveness or possessiveness that compelled the man to convert a section of the room into his sleeping quarters. He doubted that compassion played any role. Verstael did not seem the kindly type. Not outright cruel or selfish. More a stubborn attention to practical matters, over emotional. 

Even his rescue had been a matter of fulfilling Verstael's own agenda. And the scientist had made it clear from the start: Ardyn was a subject of study. A tool to be used in an age-old war that he knew little of. He was no more than a means to the ends of another. 

His hands tightened around the book, the hardbound edges cutting into his palms.

But the way that Verstael had  _ looked  _ at him. He had been too dazed to properly notice the details of his being freed. But the memories drifted back to him when he wandered the cold, quiet halls of the facility, and in the moments that he laid in bed and waited for sleep to take him. The way that those eyes lit up, brilliant and full of wonder. The way that his lips curled into a smile both triumphant and hungry. The memory of it made him shiver. 

It was muted now, but he still saw traces of that look whenever Verstael's gaze fell upon him. Like he was something wonderful.  _ A marvel. _

Despite his air of aloofness and cold detachment, Ardyn had noticed an expressiveness bubbling just below Verstael's surface. An eagerness and passion that ignited whenever he spoke of his research or any other matter of scientific progress. 

It only made Ardyn want to watch the man even more. Lounging on his bed or sitting on one of the nearby couches, he found himself trading his various books and other distractions for something else entirely. Just as he was doing right now. 

It was becoming a routine, watching Verstael pore over the pages of a research report, or peer into the lens of a microscope at slide after slide after slide until he felt his own eyes grow blurry. He felt free to watch; Verstael often grew too absorbed to notice that he himself was the object of another's attention, that the subject was now observing  _ him _ . 

Tonight, like so many others, he found himself waiting. Watching and waiting with a patience earned by centuries spent in solitude. Hours passed like nothing to him. Especially in the absence of pain and ever-gnawing loneliness. Now, he had a distraction. One that he had begun to welcome. 

He watched and waited, half-heartedly flipping the pages of whatever book he had snatched from Verstael's personal library, not registering a single word. His attention rested not on the discoveries and feats of fictional or historical figures, but on the lift and furrow of thin blond brows. It rested on the purse and frown of pale lips, the distracted tapping of delicate fingers. 

And every so often, the part that made his heart stir: that look of fervent excitement flickering in those eyes, the hint of a smile sneaking just under the surface. He found that he rather enjoyed when Verstael came across something pleasing in his work. Some nights, he toyed with the idea of helping him. He needed to have  _ some _ purpose here, after all. Something with which to fill his endless days, beyond being the occasional subject of study.

That’s how he spent the rest of the night, stealing moments of observation from over the pages of his book, waiting for that expression of sharp concentration to bloom into something wonderful. It was nights like this that sleep came gently and peacefully for Ardyn.

 

Verstael stifled a yawn, his eyes threatening to fall shut as he read over the last page of his notes. He didn’t know the exact hour; late, given the heavy exhaustion that seemed to cling to his every limb. He shuffled the pages back together, cursing the clumsiness of his hands. The things that he could accomplish, were there more hours in the day. Were that his mind and body didn’t grow weary after long hours of study.

He set the pages aside and flicked off the lamp on his desk, at last relieving his eyes of the harsh glare. There was enough lighting from the few pieces of equipment and the distant glow of a small night light to keep the room from complete darkness. A safety measure, when one found themselves in a building that housed daemons. 

Now, the room was invitingly dimmed. Peaceful. He hunched over his desk as he ran a hand through his hair, already in slight disorder from previous attentions. The room swam out of focus for a moment, his head tilting downward. He could fall asleep right there… Then, he would awaken in the morning (if it were not that time, already), finding himself exactly where he needed to be. 

He drifted for a moment, roused only by an errant shiver coursing through his bones. Wrapping his arms around himself with a grumble, he forced himself to his feet. The Gralean nights could grow frigid, and the facility proved rather hard to heat. Most nights, the temperature didn’t bother him. Cold hands were an insignificant symptom of being a scientist. Not that he always enjoyed sleeping with chilled extremities.

Whether it was his exhaustion, the cold, or something else entirely, Verstael found himself drawn to the bed that he had set up in the far corner of his office. It was convenient enough. Hesitating long enough to kick off his shoes, he slumped over the edge and burrowed under the covers, enveloping himself in imposible, blissful warmth. 

Were he not impaired by his weariness, he would have questioned  _ why _ the bed was so warm. And he would have arrived at a fitting hypothesis. One that would see him exiting the bed in haste. In his current state, all that he was capable of was a rare, brief moment of absolute content before his senses left him to slumber.

 

When Verstael awoke, he found himself wrapped in the same pleasant warmth and ease. A foreign sensation, this depth of comfort. A far cry from waking on that stiff old cot down the hall. But… if he wasn’t there, then… where was he?

He opened his eyes, the room taking a moment to swim into focus. Shelves of books and binders and folders, a metal desk off to the side, stacked with papers. His research office. So then why…?

He tried to sit up, but found himself held fast. There was a weight across his waist, something solid and deliciously hot pressed against his shoulders. Even as his heart nearly palpitated at the shock of it, he found that he didn’t want to move. This closeness, the heat of another… He settled back against the mattress, understanding dawning. Somehow, he had climbed into bed with his “guest” last night. And instead of shooing him out, he seemed to have been welcomed. 

For a while, Verstael simply laid there, remaining as still as he could, keeping his breaths soft and quiet. He didn't know what to do with himself, held as he was in the arms of another. No, not just another.

His discovery. His subject. Adagium. 

_ Ardyn _ . 

There had been a space between them. Not of the nature that he, as a rule, kept between himself and others. This had seemed to be something far deeper. They seemed opposites, first and foremost. That had become apparent upon their first evening dining together. While he had been fascinated in learning all that he could, in grasping at the mysteries laid out before him in immortal flesh, Ardyn had proven closed off, uninterested.

Then, there was the matter of what Ardyn  _ was. _ Immortal, a legend, something beyond even the gods. Merely acknowledging it made him shiver. 

So much separating them, and yet, here they were, pressed so very close. Rendered vulnerable in the moments of waking. It would be a lie to say that he didn't enjoy it. A lie to say that he hadn't fantasized some scene similar to this as he and Ardyn grew more and more acquainted.

Slowly, carefully, Verstael shifted, turning under the weight of the arm thrown over him. There he was. Ardyn, sleeping right next to him, looking more peaceful than he ever had since his arrival. He couldn’t help but stare, to study every feature, every angle and line, as if doing so would uncover more of this being’s secrets. Or at least, that is how he explained his actions to himself. For the longer he looked, the more his gaze softened into something less ravenous. It simmered into a quiet wonder. Into curiosity. 

That curiosity took hold, sinking its teeth into him like some stubborn little insect, refusing to let go. Unable to resist, he slipped his hand free of the blankets, bringing it up to hover just centimeters from Ardyn’s cheek. But he could go no further, as if there were an invisible wall. Yes, he had put his hands on Ardyn countless times, taking vitals and samples and running him through exercises and tests to better understand his limits and how he functioned. But never like this. There was no higher purpose to this. No question to solve or hypothesis to prove. No cold, clinical detachment to form a barrier between them. Nothing but… He swallowed, unable to believe the word as it popped into his head. 

_ Desire. _

It wasn’t a term that he used often. Not in this context. He desired a great many things. Knowledge, advancement, improvement, efficiency. But not something as simple as desire for another. Not for a very long time.

He squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a frustrated growl as his hand hovered uselessly. He couldn’t deny it. From the moment that he first laid eyes upon him, even pale and weakened and malnourished, flesh pierced by cruel chains, he had found Ardyn utterly captivating. And… not just because of what he  _ was _ .

He swallowed, eyes following the angle of his jawline. He wanted to trace it, following those perfect contours. 

He found Ardyn glorious.

Unable to resist any longer, he closed the distance, fingertips just brushing along high cheekbones, catching on the occasional patch of stubble. His lips parted in a silent gasp, shock at his own daring. Shock at how powerful a simple action felt.

He could not deny facts. And it was becoming obvious to him at a rapid pace. 

He found Ardyn deeply attractive.

Before he could thoroughly explore the repercussions of such feelings, Ardyn stirred, eyes sliding open. Vestael was lost in a moment of crippling fear, another unfamiliar sensation, capable of nothing more than watching as the fog lifted from those ancient amber eyes. They focused on him, leaving him pinned and vulnerable. Like a specimen to be vivisected. Part of him expected as much. Ardyn kept to himself, only just tolerated the poking and prodding of examinations. He didn't like to be touched.

Of all of the things that Verstael expected, seeing those eyes soften was not in his list of predicted outcomes. Nor was feeling Ardyn shift under the blankets, reaching up to nudge a few stray wisps of hair from Verstael's face. The brush of contact, however light, threatened to shatter him.

Verstael remained frozen, gaping. It took longer than he would have liked to regain speech. “What are you--?” Still not quite there, his voice shaking.

Ardyn tilted his head, and something close to amusement flickered in his eyes. “I found myself wondering the same late last night, when you crawled under the covers,” he returned, an edge of teasing in his voice. “And I find myself still wondering.”

“A mistake,” Verstael grumbled, pulling away. He had best take his leave. He didn’t relish the thought of being teased for this. “It was cold and I was too tired to notice. Nothing more.” He stared at the wrinkled sheets, refusing to meet Ardyn's gaze. Damn it all, though, he could feel the telltale warming of his cheeks. Yes, he needed to exit the bed  _ now _ . He tried to sit up, but just as before, he found himself held by a gentle grasp. 

“Stay.” The command slipped between them, quiet and almost questioning. Irresistible. 

Verstael found himself settling back against the mattress, tensed muscles relaxing. That voice, so soft and imploring, it ensnared him, a wire tightening around his throat. It would only strangle him, were he to leave. Fine. He was more than happy to be captured.

“You seem to rest far too little,” Ardyn murmured, looking at Verstael as if  _ he _ were the fascinating thing in the room.

He couldn't help but scoff. “Discoveries aren't made while resting.”

Ardyn quirked a brow, something deliciously mischievous glittering in his eyes. “Are you so certain? Perhaps I can prove you wrong.”

For a moment, Verstael wasn’t sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Sometimes, a late night squinting at text and samples rendered his vision slightly impaired the next morning. Even so, it seemed as if Ardyn had shifted nearer, locking eyes with him in a way that threatened to steal the breath from his very lungs. The arm wrapped around his waist pulled him closer, until they were almost pressed against one another. It was a slow movement, perhaps intended to give Verstael time to resist. He did no such thing. Fear and wonder and excitement quivered deep in his stomach, spilling into his veins with a peculiar warmth. Everything seemed to sharpen.

Ardyn’s hair was a mess. An absolute nest, the length of it tangled by sleep. He didn’t know why his mind chose to focus upon that particular detail, only that it led to a strong impulse to fix it. To run his hands through it until it regained some semblance of order. Impulse grew into action, his fingers brushing through a thick lock hanging just beside Ardyn’s neck.

_ He could do with a haircut, _ Verstael thought distantly, fingers creeping further into the tangle until they bumped against the back of Ardyn’s head. It was an exploratory action. Nothing more. 

Nothing more… He hadn’t intended to incite any reaction from Ardyn. He didn’t--

Ardyn closed the distance between them, nudging his chin up until their lips met. Verstael swore that his heart stopped. The intimate contact felt like a revelation, like a burst of inspiration that uncovered the elusive answer to a tired old question. He shivered, nearly melting against him.

He was gentle, this man who thought himself a monster. Who hosted in his body the same Scourge responsible for decimating all life that it touched. Even so, everything about him in this moment was almost unbearably gentle. 

The effect that such a brief moment of contact exerted upon Verstael was not gentle in the slightest. Not at all. He couldn’t breathe, was left dizzy as Ardyn pulled away and seemed to wait for his reaction. A few quick, shuddering breaths, a moment to lose himself entirely in the warmth flooding through him. Then, desire overrode all sense. 

This time, he initiated the kiss, lacing it with an undercurrent of hunger. He couldn't resist, as if something in him had been unlocked. Both hands buried in that mane of rippling mahogany, and he thrilled to feel Ardyn mirror his position. All was a tangle of limbs and bedsheets as he pushed himself closer, kissing harder, craving contact as if his body wished to defy every single night that he had spent alone. 

Everywhere that Ardyn touched felt awakened, more than he had felt in so long. He tilted his head, a quiet noise slipping from him as his tongue met the wet velvet of Ardyn's. Did he feel this way, too? Verstael found himself hoping. Selfishly, frivolously hoping. He wanted that, he realized, slipping a knee between Ardyn's legs, coaxing them apart. He wanted him to feel alive. The man had been alone for so long, lost in a drawn-out death. His fingers fell from Ardyn's hair, running greedily down the musculature of his shoulders and waist until they rested at the waistband of his pants.

He wanted to see Ardyn come alive in his hands.

Breaking away to gasp in a breath, their gazes locked. Something new burned in the fathomless depths of amber. Brighter than he had ever witnessed them. Molten and irresistible. He had summoned it, and the knowledge of that left him nearly drunk with elation. His hand remained still, his hesitation a silent question. Ardyn made no move to refuse him, seemed almost to dare him with that gaze. 

Verstael slipped his fingers downward, stroking along the heated skin of Ardyn's stomach. Goosebumps trailed in his wake. Then, he bumped against something else entirely. 

Ardyn shivered under his touch, light as it was. His eyelids fluttered, gaze slipping out of focus for a split second. A strong reaction to such light stimulus.

Verstael couldn't help but smirk, breathless as he was. He understood, though. Two thousand years was a long time to be denied the sensation of touch, innocent or erotic. Just how long would Ardyn last? Best to run a trial.

He smoothed over the head, taking his time as he traced down the length, examining every inch by touch. All the while, he watched Ardyn, drinking in every twitch and muffled gasp until his fingers reached the base. They wrapped around, nearly trembling as the weight of the situation struck him fully. What they were doing. What Ardyn was  _ allowing _ him to do. There was no turning back now, no room for hesitation.

He began to stroke, lightly at first, in case the sensation proved too much. But oh, to see those dark brows draw together, to hear those thick, aching moans. Ardyn had been so quiet, more a ghost than a man as he wandered the halls or sat on his bed. 

But now, those noises… They spurred Verstael on, his pace increasing to a steady pump. His own hips twitched and he longed to touch himself as well, but he didn't want to sacrifice his concentration. He needed to see how Ardyn looked when he brought him to orgasm. 

The fingers in his hair curled, nearly tugging as Ardyn clung to him. The gasps and whimpers spilling from him grew almost pained, overwhelmed by the sharp edge of ecstasy. 

Praises sprang to mind as Verstael watched him quake, felt the pulse of him in his hand _. Beautiful. Perfect. _ Marvel. He didn't speak them aloud, but the words danced in his mind as Ardyn’s cries grew sharper. His fingers pulled almost painfully at Verstael's hair, hips arching from the bed as his voice broke off. 

Verstael shuddered deeply as wetness spilled across his hand, trickling warm down his fingers. A lazy satisfaction spread through him as he watched Ardyn settle boneless and dazed against the mattress, gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling, darkness dancing in his eyes. He hadn't lasted long; Verstael hadn't expected him to, given the length of his imprisonment.   _ We will make up for your lost time _ , he thought, grin curling as he watched the heaving rise and fall of Ardyn's chest, the shudders that wracked it every so often. 

He leaned over to whisper in Ardyn's ear. “Be good for today's set of tests, and next time, I'll use my mouth.”

A noise somewhere between a choked moan and a whine rose from Ardyn, and a hard shudder ran through him. He reached up to fumble for Verstael's shoulder. Establishing his grip, Ardyn pulled the smaller man snug against him. “Oh, but I'm  _ always _ good,” he murmured with a content sigh, resting his head back against the pillow.

Enveloped in the same warmth that had lured Verstael into Ardyn's bed in the first place, they both dozed, each taking simple comfort in the presence of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter and scream about things with me! @and_snark. Because Tumblr axed me.


End file.
